Divinitas
by rebeccagrace
Summary: Sequel to Firetah. Draco records his thoughts in a journal.


"Divinitas"  
  
April-nighttime  
  
It's bloody cold out here, tonight. Not a normal kind of coldness, either. It's a sweeping, deadening chill, coming straight down from the sky like lightning. I can see Anchoret over by the stream. The air is cutting through her like a knife, and I can see her shivering and fluttering in the wind. She's not solid tonight...she looks like a ghost, a shadow of herself.  
  
I daren't go over there...she looks deadly, tonight. Not whole, not herself...not here. Nights like this I just want the whole thing to be over. Anything is better than this. So cold...so dark.  
  
June-sunny  
  
When she looks at me sometimes...well, I can tell that she misses Hogwarts. I can see in her eyes that she's scared, too. When she gets like that...when her eyes get all liquid and her hands start to tremble, well...at those times I don't know what to say to her, and it makes me afraid. Afraid because I have never been at a loss for the right words at the right time. Only she can render me useless and helpless like this. Why won't she let me help? I don't even want to try. I don't know what I could do, anyway, to make her feel better.  
  
The thing is...I've never wanted to make anyone feel better. Sometimes she knows though. She just looks at me and she knows, and those are the times I don't have to say anything. I just hold her, and she knows.  
  
July-hot  
  
When I look at Anchoret I don't see a heroine, I don't see a goddess or a flaming Firetah or whatever she is. I just see her, as herself. I'm not blinded by her fire. I'm not consumed by her flames. She needs me to be strong and I am.  
  
Her hair gets in the most terrible knots, sometimes. She's sitting under a tree just now, cursing and coaxing them out. Her fringe hangs down into her eyes and I don't know how she can see through it. She won't cut it though...she likes it all wild and tousled, I suppose. It fits her, and I don't mind...in fact I find it hard to remember a time when I did mind.  
  
Yes...I see her as she really is. Not like Potter saw her, not perfect. Just her.  
  
September- dusk  
  
Anchoret is angry with me today. She scares me when she's like this...and I don't scare easily.  
  
These are the times when it's hard to be near her. Although I can't escape from the hold she has on me, sometimes I want to. I can tell she does too, at times. I hate it when we shut each other out...but it's like we don't know any other way to escape. Neither of us has ever loved like this before. Actually I have never loved at all. I have never loved at all...it startles me to write this. I never realized it before. I have gone through my entire life not needing anybody, not wanting anybody. Until Anchoret. And even now her presence suffocates me...it smothers us both until we can't stand it anymore and we lash out. We'd better learn quick, though. Time is short.  
  
Anchoret says we must work with our bond and not against it, but it's like trying to assemble one of those Muggle bicycles without instructions. Days like this I want to just run away.  
  
September-midnight  
  
I still can't figure out why she's angry with me. I only did what I thought was right, but then what do I know?  
  
It all started when we went to see Starling Rivlet, a bent and rather mad old wizard, at his house in Dorset. How we got there I'll not write here. Anchoret had heard that Starling knew things. "Old Things," Anchoret called them.  
  
When we got to his house, I wasn't surprised at all to see that it was old and weathered and grey. It fit Starling perfectly, as I found out when he opened his door a few seconds later. He looked genuinely shocked to see us. As if he never got any visitors at all. I could tell why. "Do come in..." he told us. He had the raspiest, creakiest voice I'd ever heard, and his eyes were of the most peculiar violet color. He made me nervous right away. His house was full of dust and smelled strongly of raisins, but Anchoret seemed not to notice. She just followed him into his tiny lounge and sat down on the window seat. I had no choice but to follow. Do I ever?  
  
As soon as she sat down she turned to him. She hadn't spoken before this, so when she did he was so startled by her voice, which has always been rather...powerful, that he nearly toppled off his chair, which was rather precariously balanced to begin with. Anchoret let him recover, watching him with that tiny smile she gives when she is impatient. After he had settled down, Anchoret said, "So tell me what you know, Starling."  
  
The old man turned and looked at Anchoret then, sort of studying her face. Then he bowed his head slightly. I looked at Anchoret then and knew that she had won his respect. I almost laughed at Starling, paying his strange homage to her, but Anchoret accepted it with a quiet dignity, because she knew that she deserved what he was offering. All I could do was sit and watch them.  
  
Then finally he broke into a smile and started telling us, well her, really, what he knew.  
  
"Have you ever heard of the Wild Hunt?" I looked on dumbly, as he shifted in his chair and kept on smiling that strange smile. Anchoret looked startled for a moment, but she stilled and said, "Yes Starling, I have actually...why?" I saw her flash him a smile that was more threat than politeness. She was getting impatient and he knew it. He continued, slowly, as if to show her he wasn't afraid.  
  
"There is a way, Anchoret, to call the Wild Hunt down in pursuit of someone." He smiled sneakily. Anchoret looked surprised. "There is?"  
  
Starling dropped his voice to a whisper."Oh yes, yes...if you know the right spell, Firetah." 


End file.
